#Whole30 #Writing Log: Day 12

Free Fiction Has Come from the Wilds (3)

Another snow day.

Another frickin’– ARE YOU KIDDING ME, GOD?!

Once again, my writing time is limited. My grading time is limited. How am supposed to get any work done when the kids are bickering over Lego and the library books about Ripley’s Believe it or NotEven Bo has off due to bad roads. What about meME?

MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE?!?

Ugh.

I sound like the Me-Monster comedian Brian Regan creates for one of his stand-up routines.

Stop complaining, Jean. At least with Bo home you were able to tackle a chunk of school stuff this morning. You got a little writing done–not a ton, but at least you know where you want to go next tomorrow.

You had help shoveling outside. Heck, you all went outside to shovel the several inches of heavy white stuff.

You got to have a snowball fight with your family.

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Biff and Bash defended their mountain…

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Bo and Blondie whitewashed each other’s faces repeatedly…

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The little Bs actually stood together long enough for you to take a picture…

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Bash evaded stepping in the neighbor’s dog poop…

 

It wasn’t such a bad snow day after all, really.

All it needed was a little love. x

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Don’t forget that my novel’s on sale all month for just 99 cents! You’re more than welcome to my short stories too, available for free here and here.

Free Fiction Has Come from the Wilds (2)

Read on, share on, and write on, my friends!

JeanLee-nameLogoBoxed

#Whole30 #Writing Log: Day 11

Free Fiction Has Come from the Wilds (3)

Well, here I sit with my coffee cut by unsweetened almond coconut milk.

Sigh.

But I’m a third way through….okay I’ve already technically failed, but Bo is a third way through, and that’s what counts! He’s been scouring Alton Brown’s Good Eats episodes for different ways to prepare vegetables and meat, and has found a few that can fit under Whole30 with a little tweaking…not that I remember their episode names. But I will recommend Good Eats to anyone who loves good food and is curious about the science that makes food good in the first place. Alton’s popcorn recipe’s a great introduction to his show’s style.

In these days of sugar withdrawal, it’s really damn hard to focus my brain. I can see the scene, but then there’s that need to transcribe the color and emotion and my fingers are tripping on the keyboard. I may as well be Biff going “;ALISHASL;IGBAS’;OFASDJKLFG;’OTY23PORKNG;SALDFBHASDLKFASKULTROU” on the keyboard. “I’m super-typing, Mommy!” Twice now I’ve stuck my coffee in the freezer to warm it up. I’ve tried sticking the milk in the oven, stopped only because the gallon jug’s too tall. Here’s hoping I don’t try to eat the food toys Bash left on the table from the Feast he made for the Transformers the other day.

The dread of yet another snow storm coming in the night’s not helping my mood, either.  Oh, God, you do have a sense of humor aaaaaaaaaaaaaall you’re own.

I did have a sweet moment of solitude outside, though, in that moment between seeing Blondie off on the bus and getting Biff and Bash ready for school.20190211_071202

Birdie tracks!

We have lots around the front of our house, but there was something about seeing this lone bird’s tracks stamped all around the porch, over the sleds to the old tree stand and back. The boys will wreck these tracks when they come out for school. Heck, I’ll probably wreck them when I take out the garbage.

So I snapped a shot, a good reminder that I need to refill the bird feeder before the storm arrives. We’re apparently the only feeder on the street, for anywhere from 6-15 birds will huddle in the bushes by our house and fight over chances to perch on the feeder. A hawk’s worked this out too, and has left the remains of his breakfast on our front yard more than once. He even tried to snatch a bird one afternoon, but they escaped. He sat on our porch railing, then, for a good ten minutes, waiting for the wee ones to return. He flew off, yes, but I have a feeling he’s just hanging out a few yards down, watching and waiting.

Those predators, folks. They cannot be denied.

Speaking of, I’m rather proud of the predators in my novel and free fiction. Care to check them out? You’ve got six free short stories to choose from, the first of my free exclusive stories on the site, aaaaaaaand my novel, which is currently on sale for a wee 99p. Spread the word to your fantasy-lovin’ friends!

Free Fiction Has Come from the Wilds (2)

Read on, share on, and write on, my friends!

JeanLee-nameLogoBoxed

#Whole30 #Writing Log: Day 3

Free Fiction Has Come from the Wilds (3)

Today’s been a day of mist, slush, and boiled eggs. While I trudge through term-opening hello’s and how-do’s with students, Bo cleans the kitchen and boils 3 dozen eggs for he and I to nosh on during the work week.

“Think popcorn is okay?” he asks. “There’s got to be something snackish that’s safe.

“Dunno,” I say while trying the cashew milk in my coffee.

Bo watches me sip. And grimace. “Well?”

I smack my lips. “Well, it’s, um, it’s there.”

“Yeah, that was how I felt about the coconut milk in my tea last night.”

Behind him is the door of the fridge. Behind the door of the fridge is my creamer. My GOOD creamer. “You’re gonna finish that cashew stuff off, aren’t you?”

Bo’s not making eye contact. “Yeees.”

“Good,” I say in a snit and snoot on out of there. Our grocery bill exploded for this diet. Meat’s pricey enough, but six bucks for a small jar of mayo? Robbery, I tell you!

And because Bo’s hardcore into this diet, he bought two jars. Multiple salad dressings. Multiple nut milks. We have to keep checking what’s “Whole30 compliant,” and of course none of these things are easily found, let alone cheap.

Here’s the site we’ve been using, in case you’re interested: https://www.oliveyouwhole.com/category/whole30/

When I look our fridge, my stomach churns. Is our tax return just going to end up funding this diet?

It’s a nauseating thought.

But I want Bo to want to be healthy, and for the first time in years, he does. He can’t just eat meals of pasta and bread anymore. I can’t be stuffing my face with chocolate chips anymore. Our kids deserve better role models of moderation and health. If they can face their fears atop the highest sledding hill by their grandma’s house, zipping down that slope no matter how nasty the previous wipe out, then dammit, we can survive a month without peanut butter and milk.

Oh! Speaking of which, we survived that mountain yesterday!

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Clockwise: Biff and I sailing down, Blondie just before her hat flies off, Bash and I wipe out, Bash narrowly missing another saucer kid 

You should have seen the broken sleds littering its bottom, like ships crushed by the rocks along a perilous New England shore. Ye gods, I thought I was going to pass out. But all three of the Bs trekked up the slope–surely the length of home plate to the outfield if not further–and just FLEW. Toppled a lot, too. One girl did careen into Biff early on, and Bash got a nasty face wash when we wiped out together, but nothing bad happened. No bloodshed. No screaming for the ER. Just mad giggles of delight.

So even though I couldn’t touch my mother’s pumpkin chocolate chip cookies, it was, in the end, a good Saturday.

A perk to this day? Seeing that my Tales of the River Vine bumped back into the top four slots of free YA Monster Fiction again. WOOHOO!

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To all who grabbed a copy, thank you! To those who haven’t, grab one now! They’re free, after all, so even the most meager of budgets can afford a quick read into a dark fantasy. 🙂 I’ve another short story free on my site for newsletter subscribers, too–click here for more info. 

And if you dig those short stories, you can check out my novel for just a buck!

Free Fiction Has Come from the Wilds (2)

Read on, share on, and write on, my friends!

JeanLee-nameLogoBoxed

Writer’s Music: Soli Deo Gloria Cantorum

Few times in the year do we, at least many of us, see magic in the air. Even if one doesn’t believe in the baby Jesus, herald angels singing, and all that jazz, we tell our children that an old guy has flying reindeer and a sled filled with enough toys for hundreds of millions of children and he visits each and every child on the planet over the course of 24 hours. We tell them to believe in the impossible.

The magic.

And the music of the season has a feel unlike any other. Songs of Santa Claus jiggle like a bowl full of jelly, sure, but the carols of religious nature hold a sweet warmth to them like the candles of an advent wreath.

But this particular song takes the magic even further. Last year, I shared a carol sung by the Mormon Tabernacle Choir that transcended, narrowing the gap between this world and Heaven. Today, I want to share the song that thins the divide between our world and magic’s realm.

Yes, it’s still a song about Christ, and yet…it begins with the harp. I initially heard this song sung by the Mormon Tabernacle Choir, who used bells. Bells resonate in the air, and their tin separates their notes  from the voices. The Soli Deo Gloria Cantorum, who sing the version I’m sharing, let the harp flow, the string plucks like trickling water from a fallen log in the stream.

And the choir: the circle of voices carry their harmonies unbroken as though the wind itself sings among trees. One soprano holds the melody as the moon gives light to the land. There’s no dramatic swell as there was with “What Shall We Give to the Babe in the Manger.” This song simply rises and falls as water upon the shore. It is Nature’s carol, quiet and mystical. It beckons one from mankind’s harsh light into the dark forest, where its magical kiss hides in a single snowflake.

Let us find it, you and I.

#Winter Roads

Traveled through the farmland to visit my friend Rachel (see “Roads”). Winter brings a harsh beauty to Wisconsin.

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The landscape dazzles thanks to snow and subzero temperatures. The first sunlight in days, too, and a clear sky.

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For some reason, this river refuses to freeze over.

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Silence holds the air, numbs fingers and lungs.

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I think of winter, how it halts life here. To press forward, to even breathe, is to struggle against Nature. I think of Rachel, whose progress has been halted by cancer’s return to her brain stem. She struggles to speak, to walk, to eat. She fights against that which Nature has planted in her. Twice. I think of her, and winter, and remember that the thaw has to come, and with it, life, and hope.